


Mourning Rituals of Tame Racing Drivers

by derryderrydown



Category: Top Gear (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stig isn't his usual cheery self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning Rituals of Tame Racing Drivers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



Richard was rubbing his arm as he walked into the production offices. "What's up with Stiggy?" he asked.

Jeremy shrugged without looking up from the stack of press releases but James said, "You noticed it, too?"

"Hard to miss," Richard said. "He _bit_ me!"

Jeremy did look up at that. "How did he manage that? He doesn't have a mouth."

"The helmet." Richard made motions to indicate a monster helmet with huge pointy teeth and an unquenchable thirst for blood. "It's quite snappy, you know."

"Perhaps it _is_ his mouth," James said, and all three pondered it for a moment before returning to the more urgent subject. "You know he's meant to be taking Matt Smith out in the reasonably priced car today?" James said.

"We can't let him kill the Doctor," Jeremy said in alarm. "He doesn't have many regenerations left!"

"And you say I'm a geek," James muttered.

"You are," Richard and Jeremy said in unison.

"Oh, up yours," James said. "What are we going to do about Stig?"

"I'll go and talk to him," Jeremy said and strode manfully out of the office. The effect was only spoiled by the fact that he'd been sitting for a long time and his hip was playing up enough for a slight but noticeable limp.

"That's not going to help, is it?" Richard said.

"Not in the slightest. Unless..."

"What?"

"Well, Stig might kill him. And that might cheer him up."

"Even if it doesn't, it'll give us an excuse to postpone the show until Stiggy's feeling better," Richard said brightly.

* * *

There was definitely _something_ wrong with the Stig, Jeremy decided. His head - helmet - drooped forward and he was _slouching_. The Stig never slouched. Jeremy hadn't even known he was capable of it.

"Alright, mate," Jeremy said and patted him on the shoulder before remembering Richard's bite.

But the Stig didn't move, except to droop a little more.

"We're getting an Enzo along later," Jeremy said encouragingly. "That'll cheer you up, won't it? A nice fast lap?"

After a moment, the Stig slowly shook his head.

"A Lambo? I'm sure we could get you a Veyron, even?"

The Stig sighed heavily.

Perhaps he wanted something more old-school. "McLaren F1?"

But the Stig just ambled off towards the Lacetti, bent over and rested his head on the bonnet.

"That," Jeremy said, "is definitely weird."

* * *

"He's sick," Jeremy said to Andy. "We need to call a doctor. Or maybe a vet. Or somebody from NASA."

"You're a fuckwit," Andy said.

"Any particular reason, right this moment?"

"He gets like this every year. You hadn't noticed?"

"I don't see him that often," Jeremy said, defensively. "Only when we're filming."

"It's the anniversary of-" Andy looked around and whispered, "-the first Stig..."

Enlightenment dawned. "Oh!" Jeremy said. "I didn't realise he was upset about the first Stig dying."

"He's not," Andy said. "Different branch of the family, apparently. Haven't spoken since an argument about who inherited a carburettor. But he gets upset about the Jag."

"The _Jag?_ It was a heap of junk. And he doesn't mind when we kill Marinas and stuff."

"_Once_, the Jag was a decent car," Andy said.

"Which is more than can be said for a Marina," Jeremy said. "Oh, of course, that's why he doesn't mind killing one. How long does he normally mope for?"

Andy glanced at his watch. "Should be another five minutes or so."

Jeremy considered it. "Suppose I shouldn't be surprised he's that precise about it."

"I _meant_ it'll be another five minutes or so until we snap him out of it. So you can just run along and keep out of the way until we need you."

* * *

"It's all in hand," Jeremy said breezily, heading back into the office. "He'll be normal again in a few minutes."

"Oh." Richard blinked a few times. "How did you manage that?"

"Didn't you notice the date?" Jeremy said. "He always gets like this on the anniversary of the Jag going off the _Invincible_." James looked slightly suspicious at Jeremy's sudden psychological insight but Jeremy ignored him and continued. "He'll be over it in a few minutes. Just in time to teach the Doctor how to drive something with wheels!"

"You know _Doctor Who_'s just a TV show, right?" Richard said, but Jeremy, rubbing his hands in anticipation, had already gone.

Richard and James shrugged and followed him.

Just in time to see a gleaming Jaguar XJ-S pull onto the track.

"Oh, lovely!" James said. "That's the 1982 model, the new V12 that came first _and_ second at-"

"Shut up," Richard said, and James obeyed because he was watching the Stig and the Stig had perked right up.

He'd lifted his head off the bonnet of the Lacetti and was staring at the Jag. And then he was walking towards it; not quickly but with an implacability that made the crew jump out of his way.

He paused for long enough to stroke the car's perfect paintwork and then he slid into the driver's seat of the Jag and, in a screech of tyres, was off round the track.

"Right," Andy said. "He'll be ready for Matt Smith when he gets back. Somebody find out where he's parked the TARDIS, will you?"


End file.
